


Of scornful shores

by Sol_Invictus



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Major Illness, Prompt Fill, Sea imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 00:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19284850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/pseuds/Sol_Invictus
Summary: For the prompt "wine-pink waves" :His end was an ocean of misery, with wine-pink waves coming out of his mouth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whalersandsailors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "wine-pink waves" requested by a Tumblr user. I actually hesitated between making this outright angst or giving a ray of hope to our boys. In the end, I just can't hurt my dimple-smiling muffin like this so here you go. A second part may come out. Perhaps.

His end was an ocean of misery, with wine-pink waves coming out of his mouth. His illness was saltwater devouring him, splitting open his skin and breaking his bones. His heart had sunk like the _Terror_ had probably done by now. Hope had taken its leave with Crozier (he had _promised,_ he had _promised_ and Jopson had believed him like the blind loyal fool he was) and now there was pain. Pain was in his eyes, in his throat; it squeezed the air out of his lungs and stole his strength; it rotted his teeth and tore away his hair. But mostly, pain was clawing his heart. Oh, it was killing him more surely than the scurvy.

He had left him behind.

He had gone like retreating waves on a dark moon, not even casting a glance back. Edward Little. His Edward. His Ned. His beloved. Thomas loved him so much. Their love, the fact he was loved and loved back, had been what had pulled him out of his bed every morning ever since they had gotten stuck in the ice. Ned had left him behind (he had never promised, not the way Crozier did, but it was in his eyes, in his caresses, in his smiles but he had never said it aloud because a promise wasn’t a promise when there were no words).

Thomas was drowning in bitter heartbreak. He had crawled out of the tent like a dying squid washed ashore, pain tearing him apart.

_Waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait_ -

Death descended upon him like rolling, tempestuous waves. It gripped him by the shoulders (so hard, too hard; his bones were creaking) and flipped him on his back. The sun was a blinding sea of mirrors, burning his eyes. The dark figure leaned forward and in its shadow Thomas recognized Edward Little. He wanted to speak his name, to ask _are you dead already?_ But his throat was dry like sand untouched by water and he could only choke on his own blood. Ned’s tears fell on his face like bitter rain.

“Tom, _oh Tom_ , oh God…”

His Ned cradled him in his arms (still strong and healthy like the first day Thomas had been held in their embrace) and picked him up like a mermaid thrown ashore. He carried him back into his tent, onto his bed, tucked back the covers around him. He was weeping like a newborn on his hand, squeezing too hard, salty tears burning the cuts on his fingers. Thomas gathered the last of his strength to lean upright and plant his lips on Edward’s bearded cheek. He found he tasted like the sea.

His end was to be an ocean of his Ned, it seemed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up with a happy ending. :)

Everything was so difficult. Breathing was difficult; opening his eyes was difficult; chewing was difficult. Hearing wasn’t difficult and it was his only comfort and pleasure in this agony. He didn’t have the strength anymore to speak, but his Ned spoke to him nonetheless all day long. The others had died quickly, and each time Ned had come back wailing to him. Thomas knew it weighted heavily on him, these deaths, these men he couldn’t save. He was always floating in timeless darkness. Ned left him a lot. He always brought back bugs and chew it for him so he could eat them more easily. He was always promising him he’d bring back a rabbit next time, something hearty to eat for the two of them. Thomas didn’t care. He just wanted to die at the same time as Ned, so he wouldn’t be left alone. Sometimes, when he came to settle down in his bed and take him in his arms (now so thin, yet still strong), Thomas wished they could die like this, in their sleep, the two of them entwined.

That would be kinder that the fate awaiting them.

He was pulled out of sleep by voices. He recognized Ned’s easily enough, but not the others. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. They were probably outside the tent. Thomas fought hard against the exhaustion trying to put him back to sleep. There were raised voices, almost shouts. It was Ned. He sounded pleading. More voices. Ned sounded calmer. He heard movements. Someone entered the tent.

“We’re saved!” was sobbing Ned. “We’re saved Tom!”

Thomas made the excruciating effort of opening his eyes. His blurry sight focused on his dear Edward weeping, looking the happiest he had ever seen him be. He tried to smile, but he couldn’t. Darkness swallowed him up again. He woke up when he got jostled. He wasn’t in his bed anymore. He heard voices. He thought he recognized Ned’s in one of them. Thomas realized he was outside, dragged on something, before sinking into sleep again. He emerged again to someone putting food into his mouth. He accepted it, swallowed it without question. He was so exhausted. He couldn’t move his limbs anymore. His life was resumed to faint sounds of Ned’s voice and food in his mouth. Slowly his hearing sharpened. He smelled things again. He felt foreign touches on him, hands that were not Ned’s. He started to feel stronger.

When he was strong enough to open his eyes, he saw he was in a tent unlike those of the Navy. He was wrapped in wolfskin blankets, and there was a fire at the center. Another time, he saw a native woman chew meat for him to eat and he had thousands of questions but he couldn’t speak. He still felt exhausted, so exhausted, but often he felt Ned’s presence by his side, his arms around him, his voice against his ear soothing him, telling him they were safe now. The Inuit people had taken pity on them both and had took them in. Now Ned was always away with the men learning how to hunt, dressed just like them and clean shaven. He could be gone for days but he always came back. He would clean Thomas, help him eat, sleep with him under the wolfskin blankets. Exactly two days after Thomas managed to sit up for the first time, Crozier entered his tent and wept as he took him in a crushing embrace.

At that very precise moment ( _he had come back, come back to him_ ), he knew that they were all truly saved.

(Crozier would be the one giving him his first proper shaving in an eternity, on the whaler bringing them back to England.)

(He spent his first night in a real bed in Ned’s arms, strong and healthy again as they should be.)

 

(His end, it seemed, had in fact been his beginning.)


End file.
